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The Hobsons Choice Affair Chapter 33
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Disclaimer
This is a work of amature fiction, no contravention of copyright is intended and no profit is made from this endeavour.
Shortly after the two men reached the woods, Napoleon felt himself being
pushed down into a crouch and held there by his companion, who breathed
"Don't move" into his ear.
Under other circumstances he could gladly have remained this delightfully
close to Illya forever, but now he turned his head in the direction of the
whisper and raised an eyebrow in silent query.
"The shooting's stopped; he's probably stalking us." Illya ruthlessly
suppressed a spurt of desire provoked by the other man's nearness.
The distraction could get them both killed, and he definitely wanted
to explore these new feelings -- in a safer location, with more time.
He exerted all his senses to locating Grovesnor, including the preternatural
one all good agents seemed to have, usually refered to as "eyes in the back
of the head."
He felt Napoleon squeeze his arm and turned his attention back to the man.
"We should split up to give him more targets."
"An excellent idea -- if you were an armed and trained agent. You are not.
I'm responsible for your safety, and too many people have died over this
already." An idea popped into his head. "Can you shoot?"
"I learned in Korea, and kept up the skill by regular practice." The same
idea occured to him. "I could lure him out."
"Too risky for you -- I'm more experienced at this sort of thing. All you
need do is wait until he moves, then take him out. Can I trust you to do
that, and *only* that?"
Napoleon nodded and drew the weapon Mark had given him earlier.
Illya returned the nod with a quick and impulsive kiss on the cheek,
and was swiftly and silently gone to play fox to Grovesnor's hound.
A moment later the crouching man heard the snapping of a twig as
Illya deliberately gave away his position.
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